


The Wardens of Ferelden

by SerChristoph



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 01:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerChristoph/pseuds/SerChristoph
Summary: The Wardens of Ferelden are rebuilding after the devastation of the Fifth Blight. Join them as they stand before the darkness, and just try to make it from day to day with all the problems of being a Grey Warden. Loosely connected short stories to cover a range of themes. ON HIATUS





	1. In With the New

**In With the New**

A dank sunlight greeted Warden Commander Aedan Cousland as he opened his eyes that morning. Ears perked up at the faint sound of hammering and stone grinding one stone far below the window. Grunting slightly as he dragged himself out of bed, he wanted nothing more than to sink back into that luxurious four-poster; drift away into another peaceful sleep.

However duty tugged at his conscience, the faint shouts of men below needed to see their Arl and leader. It was as much for morale as it was to ensure they did their jobs properly. Though Aedan doubted they were slacking off too much.

Cracking his neck exquisitely as he assumed his morning rituals, the Hero of Ferelden chanced a glance out of the window. Really the work on Vigil’s Keep was extraordinary; barely two months had passed since the catastrophic battle with the darkspawn’s forces, and already the ancient fort was starting to take on her old glory once more. Temporary fortifications held their ground while irate stonemason Voldrik Glavonak oversaw the reconstruction of the Keep’s mighty walls, yelling at a pair of human workers who were just digging a hole in the wrong place.

_Not too shabby, master dwarf. Though don’t work them all to death._ Aedan thought with a smile.

Aedan left the window and approached his armour, notched and scarred through many a battle, though Aedan wore it proudly and well. A familiar comfort greeted the senior Warden as he donned the bright silverite, plates slotting into place as the heavy armour enveloped him. Adjusting his form in the mirror, it wouldn’t do for the Warden Commander to appear sloppy to the men, he approved his appearance with a nod and strode out of the room.

Trotting down the stairs, he greeted maids, servants and soldiers with cursory nods and smiles. Hastening down to the gate and into the front yard, he paused for a moment. The work that had so impressed him from above was even more magnificent right in front of him. Dozens of workers milled about, humans, elves, dwarves, even a qunari or two. All were setting stone bricks, laying mighty firs, hammering metal into place or else making some contribution to the effort. The Keep’s restoration was in full swing. Now all that was needed was a troop of Wardens worthy to defend her.

_Straight to the first duty of the day then._

Aedan’s head swung around to the small forge manned by the master blacksmith Wade and his partner Herren. Early in the morning and the pair were already bickering away. Doing his best to hide the small smirk creeping up his face, Aedan approached the two men.

“Wade, we can’t afford to make these armours with such expensive materials,” Herren chastised his partner, a list of said materials in hand, “Couldn’t you have used something cheaper?”

“Cheaper?” The blacksmith scoffed, “you mean worse, I won’t have my art dragged down by such shoddy rubbish!” Wade whipped his head away from the insult, Thick moustache bristling. His merchant partner rubbed at his face with both hands.

“You won’t be able to make any more ‘art’ if we cannot stick to our orders,” Herren muttered through grinding teeth, “You’ve nearly used twice the budget the Commander gave us!” The bald headed man waved away his concerns.

“He’ll be thanking me when these lovelies save him and the other Wardens from a genlock ambush.” Wade attempted to assure his long suffering companion with little success. Herren groaned audibly as Wade shook his head at the other’s foolishness. Aedan chose that moment to enter with a deliberate cough. The bickering pair swung around to face him.

“Ah- Commander,” Herren started haltingly, “what a pleasant surprise.” He chuckled nervously as he contemplated how to break the bad news to his latest employer. “I’m afraid there’s been some sort of a mistake-” Wade huffed brusquely, “a mistake with the acquisition of materials for the armour you ordered.” The merchant smiled most flimsily as he imagined the loss of business that would occur from this disaster.

“Relax my friend,” the Commander waved away Herren’s fears with an easy smile, “I’ll speak with Mistress Woolsey and arrange proper payment. My Wardens need all the help they can get.” The merchant’s face bloomed in colour.

“Hah! You see Herren?” Wade swept in smugly, “the Commander appreciates quality.” He quickly sped past Aedan, “Come, you must see them for yourself, my life’s work is what it is! Come, come!” He beckoned the Warden to follow him.

“Wait!” Herren spoke up in protest, “You still need to finish Lord Eddelbrek’s armour!” The blacksmith didn’t miss a step.

“Oh that can wait, this is much more important.” With that, Wade practically skipped into the Keep. The Commander spared Herren a sheepish grin before making after the eccentric blacksmith; pausing only to send a pair of messenger boys off to summon the other Wardens.

xxx

Aedan found himself being treated to a lecture about all the wonders Wade had constructed for the order. The armour designs were simple, elegant and beautiful, so said the master blacksmith. He muttered grudgingly of the values of the designs from Weisshaupt fortress, though his own personal ideas would have been much superior, naturally.

The armours truly were a work of art, thought Aedan. Each set sporting a blue and silver striped tunic, with brightly polished silverite armour, all finished off with fine brown leather boots and gloves. The warrior armour wearing complete armour, the mage robes only featured a chest plate and cuisses. Altogether much more impressive than the random assortment of gear Aedan had to use during the Blight.

_These_ , Aedan thought with a smile, _will be armour worthy of the Wardens_.

It wasn’t long before the Ferelden Wardens joined their Commander and Wade in the armoury. Nathaniel, punctual as ever, arrived first, clad in his usual black leather armour. Sigrun followed, wearing her usual Legion of the Dead armour. Both eager to see their new gear.

“This is it Commander?” Nathaniel approached his gear with an approving smile. “Maker, how many sovereigns did these all cost?”

“Costs are immaterial when it comes to quality!” Wade interjected, a little defensive, “You’ll be glad of them come your next battle.” The human Wardens shared a look; they were all too familiar of their blacksmith’s pride in his work.

“I’m sure I will,” Nathaniel replied gracefully, “a rampaging ogre couldn’t break this metal.” Wade nodded, apparently appeased and left the Wardens to their new treasures. Aedan looked over to Sigrun, who was perusing her armour with significantly less enthusiasm.

“Something wrong Sigrun?” the Commander asked as he walked over to her.

The usually ever sunny and cheerful dwarf shook her head rigorously, “Oh no! It’s lovely.” Her fingers idly traced over the Grey Warden emblem on the chest plate. “It’s just … heh, it’s stupid really.”

Nathaniel wandered over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Come now Sigrun, whatever it is, it can’t be so terrible as to frighten a Legionnaire.” His light jest was met with only a small smile from the dwarf.

“Well,” Sigrun began uncertainly, toying with a buckle on her Legionnaire armour, “it’s just … The Legion were like a family to me, they _are_ my family. Taking a different set of armour … feels like I’m leaving them behind somehow.”

Aedan inhaled deeply, he had no idea this would impact her in such a way. From the look of Nathaniel’s face, neither did he. The archer spoke up first, smiling at the forlorn dwarf.

“Sigrun, it doesn’t matter what emblem you wear on your chest. What matters is that you keep them with you here.” He gestured with a fist over his heart.

Sigrun spluttered a little as she tried not to laugh. “Really Nate? That was almost romantic coming from you.” The archer smirked a little playfully at her brightened expression.

“I have my moments.” Nathaniel answered dryly, winking at Aedan.

“You don’t have to use it if it makes you so uncomfortable.” Aedan offered.

Still giggling a little at Nathaniel, Sigrun looked back at her new warden armour. “Thanks, but I’m fine … it is wonderful though, really.”

The warm moment suddenly evaporated as a hearty belch announced the arrival of Oghren. The Commander turned to see the dwarf with Anders, Justice and Velanna in tow.

“Hey Commander,” Oghren called over, the familiar aroma of booze reached Aedan’s nose, “This the new gear you promised?”

“Aye, take a look.” Aedan gestured to the armour and robes adorning the manikins around the armoury. “All tailored to fit perfectly, or so I’m told.” The warden’s spread out to their new uniforms with interest. Each moved behind a personal dressing screen to fit their new gear. Justice approached the Commander, the decaying face of Kristoff typically stoic and neutral.

“Warden-Commander, would it not be wise if I did not wear this new Grey Warden armour?” Aedan raised an eyebrow at the question, “I am not a Grey Warden and my current armour is satisfactory enough for our purposes. In addition, I do not suffer pain as you mortals do, so to receive new armour will not benefit me as much as your kind.”

The Commander chuckled a little at Justice’s reasoning, “You may not be a true Grey Warden, but you’ve done so much for us that I’d consider you an honorary Grey Warden.”

Justice cocked his head to one side in confusion. “What does that mean, to be an honorary Grey Warden?”

Aedan rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, it means that we consider you one of us. Even though you haven’t … undergone the training, so to speak.”

“By training you mean the Grey Warden Joining ritual.” The Commander nodded. “I see now.”

“Hey! Spirit boy!” Oghren yelled over, popping out from behind his dressing screen. Chest piece already in place and one boot on, “Just put the Blighted thing on will yer! Boss says yer one o’ the gang so get the shirt on!”

“There is no shirt with this armour.” Justice furrowed his brow in confusion, inspecting the armour further.

“It’s not a literal shirt Justice. It’s just a phrase” Sigrun called from behind her dressing screen, noticeably more chipper than before.

“You mortals have peculiar ways.” Justice muttered seemingly to himself more than anyone.

Aedan shook his head while chuckling, moving to the end of the armoury where his own tailored armour was. Picking up the chest piece to admire it, he had to admit that Wade had done exceptionally well. The metal was light, much lighter than what he typically wore for battle. Just by griping the steel Aedan could almost feel how strong it was.

He quickly changed into the armour and moved through some motions to test its limits. All in all he had a much broader scope in movement than he had in his typical armour. It was almost like moving in a simple tunic and trousers.

“ _Fenedhis!_ ” The curse came from the changing screen next to his, from the Keep’s resident Dalish elf Velanna.

“Is something wrong Velanna?” Aedan called next to her screen.

“I can dress myself thank you!” The heated reply came through the wood. Anders’ popped his head around his screen further down the armoury. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Aedan struggled not to laugh a little, “I’m sure that you can. Are you not happy with the armour?”

There was pause before she replied, “No, it is exceptional work, Wade must be very proud …”

“But?” The Commander leaned against the separating pillar, arms folded.

Velanna came out from behind the screen a moment later, newly clad in her Warden mage robes. Aedan had to admit that she looked good, and it made a change from her more … immodest Dalish robes. Said robes were carefully folded and draped over her arms, which the elf held to her chest protectively.

“It is just a big change is all,” her eyes drifted down over her new attire, a thoughtful expression on her face, “I have never worn anything other than Dalish clothes my whole life.” She paused with a half-smile. “It is of no concern to you.” She lightly chided with her typical scowl back in place.

“Listen Velanna, if you’d prefer, you can continue to wear your Dalish robes,” Aedan offered, “I’m not asking you to abandon your culture.”

“ _Ma serannas_.” She commented dryly, “But I think that I can survive this ordeal. It is no worse than fighting a horde of darkspawn surely.”

“Maybe,” Aedan smiled, “still, for what it’s worth, I think you look good.” The human was more than slightly amused by the flush of red that appeared on her cheeks and ears.

“I should hope that we all do for the exorbitant price you surely paid for them all.” Velanna brushed off the compliment, adjusting the straps on her gloves.

“Some are looking better than others though, right Commander?” Anders sauntered over to them, practically strutting in his new robes. Aedan was mildly surprised and disappointed that the mage didn’t perform a twirl or two as he reached them.

“Ugh, must you be so … flamboyant?” Velanna asked, evidently irritated by the human mage.

“But of course, my dear lady!” Anders adopted a faux respectable tone and bowed low, “you would quickly grow tired of me if I were as serious and as dour faced as you are.” He finished with a cheeky grin.

Velanna’s eye twitched as she restrained herself from responding to the insult. Aedan could have sworn he saw electricity spark around her for a moment. “I am tired enough already of your antics human!”

“Oh! You wound me my lady!” Anders theatrically grabbed his chest as if struck by an arrow. Nathaniel wisely chose that moment to intervene and steer Anders away by the shoulders.

“Come now Anders, you don’t want to die before breakfast do you?” That perked Anders’ interest.

“Oh, good thinking Howe!” He cried enthusiastically, patting the archer on the back as they walked out of the Armoury. “To die on an empty stomach is a cruel fate indeed!” He laughed.

Velanna gripped the bridge of her nose with finger and thumb as she sighed in frustration. “Creators preserve me,” she muttered, “Just one fireball … it would be so easy.” She smiled when Aedan laughed at her comment.

“True, but that would leave you with all of the arcane work to do.” The Commander pointed out. “Healing, fighting, support.”

“You think that I couldn’t?” Velanna’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Hmm,” Aedan pretended to mull it over, “perhaps you could. Maybe you should ask Anders if you could take over all magical duties from now on.” He posed the suggestion, a playful smirk on his mouth.

Velanna replied with her own smirk. “You would not notice any difference if I did.” That brought a proper laugh out of the Commander.

“Oy!” the shout from Sigrun at the door made human and elf look up, “Are you two lovebirds gonna stand there all day or are you gonna come over for breakfast. Best hurry before Oghren eats everything!”

Both Aedan and Velanna bloomed in red as Sigrun sniggered to herself. The other Wardens had already filed out.

“Tch,” Velanna muttered, “that dwarf would eat the entire Keep if it looked enough like meat.” She strode out of the armoury with Sigrun in her typically confident fashion. Aedan shook his head with a chuckle as he took off after them.

xxx

The Warden-Commander wandered into the Keep’s dining hall, passing numerous soldiers and workers who zipped about the Keep to their duties. Reaching the dining hall, he found all of the Wardens complete in their new Warden Armour. They were sat around a long table, which was simply festooned with food. The Warden appetite was grand indeed. A small troop of kitchen staff were ferrying food and drink to the table.

Aedan failed to supress a smirk when he noticed that Oghren appeared to have cleaned four plates already. He noted with a hint of sadness that the dwarf’s armour was now speckled with food. Sighing a little and making a mental note not to allow armoured Wardens at the dinner table in future, Aedan stepped forward into the room.

“Commander!” Sigrun called, “Here!” She indicated the seat next to her. Aedan took it and nodded his greeting to the group. Anders and Oghren appeared to be in the middle of an argument about magic.

“I’m telling you! Brawn is all well and good, but we’re talking about controlling the very elements of Thedas itself!” Anders proclaimed somewhat theatrically.

“Never nug humper! No way can yer prissy magic spell stuff beat good ol’ steel!” Oghren shot back, slamming his tankard and most of its contents on the table. “One taste o’ my axe and you’d be crying all the way back to yer sheltered circles.”

Aedan leaned over to Nathaniel who was watching the proceedings with exasperation. “What are we arguing about here?”

The archer wiped his tired looking face with a hand. “These two children are determined to prove who has the biggest weapon, so to speak.”

“Hah!” Oghren spat with a mouthful of food across the table, “you’re not getting involved ‘cause you know you’d lose kiddo!” Nathaniel slowly wiped breadcrumbs from his arm. “Like your teensy little arrows could do much to a mage, or a dwarven berserker in full … berserk!”

“Impressive vocabulary. I simply feel no need to compete on such a trivial matter.” The archer replied dryly.

“Anyways, forget that.” Anders reeled the groups’ attention back to him. “Magic can do so much more than a sword or axe can though, it’s obvious! If a mage and a warrior of equal strength had a fight, the mage will always win!”

“I’m with Oghren,” Sigrun started to Anders’ dismay, “you can do a lot with practical weapons, the only real limit is your own skill.” She shot an amused look at Oghren. “Though I wouldn’t call Oghren’s fighting ‘skilful’.” The dwarf in question spluttered as he drank from his flagon. “Besides, as a rogue, all I have to do is dodge your attacks till I get close enough to shiv you.” She finished with usual chirpiness.

“I agree,” Aedan thought he might as well throw his two silvers in, “it’s all in your own technique, a good enough swordsman can take down any mage.”

Anders wagged his finger disapprovingly. “Your vote doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because you took down an _Archdemon_! That’s kind of a lot bigger than blood mages and arcane warriors.” Anders objected.

“It was still magical though.” Aedan retorted with a smirk.

Frustrated, Anders turned to the elf sat next to him. “Velanna, come on, back me up here! Magic is better than any _mundane_ form of fighting!”

The elf sighed. “That goes without saying.” Anders smiled and nodded to the others enthusiastically, “However I am not getting involved in your little spat.”

“Ha! You already gave me your vote.” Anders smirked.

Velanna merely rolled her eyes. “Fine, do as you will.” She resumed her meal and took no further part in the proceedings.

“Face it skirts,” Oghren shot at Anders, “you’ve lost this one. Most o’ us are ‘ _mundane_ ’ types.” The dwarf gave the mage a toothy, triumphant grin.

Anders appealed next to Justice, who till now had merely been watching the spectacle with typical vague interest. “Justice, you’re a spirit person. You of all people have got to know that magic trumps all else!”

The spirit blinked a few times before answering. “Barring the fact that I am not truly a person, I can see no overall advantage for one side or the other. Each has their specialties and uses, each has their weaknesses. I cannot vouch for one form of attack over the other.”

“Great, very helpful.” Anders commented sarcastically. He slouched over the table with his head on his folded arms. Sigrun snickered and patted him on the head patronisingly.

The rest of the meal passed by with more bickering and chatting, all in all a typical morning really. Just when Aedan was contemplating breaking up an argument between Anders and Nathaniel over whom mas more likely to win in a war – Orlais or Tevinter – a messenger boy ran into the hall and drew everyone’s attention.

“Warden-Commander ser!” The young boy burst out, near breathless from running, “A message for you ser. Been told it’s urgent ser!” He thrust a letter into Aedan’s hands and stood waiting for further orders.

Brow furrowed in concern, Aedan broke the seal and read. “Darkspawn sighted … large numbers of them … on the road to Denerim.” He looked over his Grey Wardens. Each of them were focussed on him. Darkspawn raids were becoming rarer as time passed since the Blight, but still they persisted. “Well, looks like we’ll get a chance to test out our new armour then.” He called out across the group with an easy smile.

“Ha ha!” Oghren burst out with glee, still mostly covered in meat and breadcrumbs, “can’t wait for it! Come on, let’s get going!” With that, the dwarf grabbed his axe and took off out the doors.

The rest of the Wardens quickly followed suit, picking up swords, daggers and staves for the fight ahead. Aedan handed the letter back to the messenger boy. “Thank you, give this to Seneschal Varel, inform him of the situation and that the Wardens will deal with the threat.” The boy bowed quickly and ran off.

The group quickly moved through the Keep and into the courtyard where Oghren was struggling to get on the back of his horse. The beast was easily twice the size of the berserker. Still the dwarf had insisted on the giant beast as his steed.

“How far?” Nathaniel posed the question as he retrieved his own charger.

“Shouldn’t be much more than a few hours ride, if we maintain a fast pace.” The Commander replied, mounting his own steed as he did so.

Velanna brought her horse out of the stables at a quick trot. “Let us not waste time then, come Oghren!” The dwarf had only just managed to mount his horse as the rest of the Wardens took off at speed out of the front gate.

“Err, right then! To battle!” Oghren cried with a hearty laugh as he set off to catch up. The dwarf nearly fell off the back of his horse as the beast accelerated.

The Wardens were off to war, fresh armour gleaming. Aedan looked back at his Wardens as his stallion set the pace for the ride ahead. He was suddenly struck by the groups make up: Humans, dwarves and an elf; Warriors, rogues and mages. There was even a friendly spirit amongst them. It was quite the mixture. By rights, half the group should probably have been killing the rest. Yet here they were.

Aedan urged his steed forward as a smile crept up his lips. The Wardens of Ferelden galloped onwards as the morning sun rose further into the pale blue sky.


	2. Questioning Beliefs

**Questioning Beliefs  
**

_Reports, letters, requests, summons, more reports … Maker, the list never ends!_

A plethora of paper covered Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland’s desk as he laboriously shifted through one page to the next. The words barely registering in his mind as fatigue threatened to get the better of him. The Commander slumped over his desk messily; simple tunic and trousers replaced his usual steel armour. The scarred heavy mail fitted to a manikin in pride of place to the side of the study. One hand ruffled through his dark hair as he tackled the latest page, dark bags under blue eyes. A day’s stubble clung to his pale chin.

Candle and moonlight cascaded across the room, shadows dancing over stone and wood. A sizable fireplace crackled and popped to the side and the aroma of embers teased the Commander’s senses.

Barely a day had passed since the Wardens’ return from the destruction of the Architect and the Mother in the dark chasms underneath Amaranthine. The Commander’s party had left the hell underneath the world to enter a new one above those dark caverns. The walls of the keep, only recently forged into being by the stonemason Glavonak now stood in near ruin. The sight of the once majestic fortress had come as a shock, even with all the unbelievable horror that had transpired over the last few months.

Proud dwarven stone was now stained with the blood and ichor of defenders and darkspawn alike. The darkspawn’s assault on Vigil’s Keep had been heavy, word from the survivors told of untold numbers of evil, relentless and unwavering. It was astonishing that any had lived to tell their tall tales that now wafted up to Aedan from the tavern far below.

But despite the losses, there had been survivors. Considerably outnumbered, the keep’s soldiers had held against the darkspawn and prevailed. Already word was spreading of the heroism of these brave men and women. But there was a bitter sting to the air of celebration in the tavern below. There was still work to be done. Many of the dead were still to be collected and sent onto the Maker. A grim task the bards do not sing of.

While the outer defences of the keep were in turmoil, the central citadel stood proud and intact. The Maker had favoured them with that small mercy at least. The main horde of the darkspawn had been pushed back and into disarray. Those not eradicated by the pursuing soldier had formed roaming bands that even now threatened the city of Amaranthine and all of Ferelden. Patrols had been dispatched despite the desperate need for men at the keep. The Wardens’ and their forces were at breaking point.

So many urgent crises demanded attention; it was difficult to know where to begin. The wounded were crowded into the throne room, the dining hall, anywhere with enough space to give the injured enough space to be healed and rest. The outer defences needed to be rebuilt from the ground up, the city of Amaranthine required immediate and all manner of aid, and a thousand other problems were spread about before Aedan’s eyes.

The beleaguered warrior rubbed at his eyes, too many long nights with what felt like little enough progress made. It didn’t help matters that Aedan pined to be out in the field like most of his Warden’s. The only fellow Warden still at the keep was the mage Anders, needed to help heal the wounded. All others were out on patrol or helping to secure Amaranthine. As Commander though, and an Arl to boot, his immediate duty was organising the security of the keep and the safety of his people.

_If I knew there’d be so much paperwork involved, I’d have quit the Wardens and run off to Antiva._

His mind drifted away from the Keep and the problems of the Arling and back into the Dragonbone Waste’s. The face of the Architect, distorted yet eerily human, was burned into his memory. The proposal the soft spoken emissary had made had left a more prominent mark upon Aedan. Once again, that offer flittered through his mind as he recalled their final encounter.

Aedan heaved a sigh as he lent back in his creaking chair, giving the papers up for a lost cause tonight. Judging by the height of the moon it was early morning already. So many worrying thoughts ran through his mind, never allowing anything else to take centre stage. He needed to clear his mind, in his position he couldn’t afford to be hesitant and unsure. It should be easy: defend the people against the Blight, no matter the cost.

_So why then do I feel so troubled?_

The Architect’s offer was insane, he knew this. It would have been ludicrous to hand himself and his Wardens over to the darkspawn. Aside from not fully understanding how the Architect could have possibly achieved his goal, there was no proof that the abomination’s actions wouldn’t have brought about yet another Blight. Ferelden was too weak to fight the darkspawn horde so soon again.

Still, the Architect was clearly unlike other darkspawn, intelligent enough to speak for a start. That was a worrying fact for the Commander to dwell on. Though despite the blatant possibility it was attempting to trick Aedan, he had the distinct feeling that the grotesque emissary had believed in its own plan for its fellow darkspawn. A persistent niggle in the back of his mind wondered if he had chosen poorly, if he really had passed up a chance to rid Thedas of the Blights forever.

_Was it truly possible? Have I just resigned the world to continue suffering until the Archdemons are all spent?_

Shaking his head violently he pulled himself from that train of thought. No, there was no way he could have dealt with the Architect. There were too many risks involved. There was nothing on which he could have trusted the Architect, once he had the Wardens’ in his lair, who knows what manner of gruesome experiments and tortures may have awaited them. Aedan had seen enough through the Blight to know just what those monsters were capable of. Even more horrific memories cascaded through the Commander’s mind, images he’d happily wipe from his memory completely.

Roughly slapping himself across the face, Aedan banished those images from his mind as he had done so often before. Since meeting the Architect and the Mother, those flashbacks had become much more frequent. His mind focussed on the Architect once more. Thinking on the offer made to him and the Warden’s even more fanatically. There was no way that the Architect could have truly expected the Warden’s to comply. Even if that plan wouldn’t have started yet another Blight, the Architect sought to rid the darkspawn of their compulsions, to make them free.

_Then what? What happens to them after? What happens to humanity? The dwarves? And elves?_

Aedan couldn’t imagine that the darkspawn could possibly coexist with the peoples of Thedas. It wasn’t just the brutal history of bloodshed that barred that possibility. The darkspawn were just … _evil_. There was no other word for it. They were made to be evil, it was in their blood. Aedan wasn’t sure what to think of the Maker, especially after all he had seen and done, but if he did exist, then the darkspawn were most certainly not one of his creations.

The Architect though, what was he? Even if the talking darkspawn was genuine in his desire for peace, his plan could have been how each of the Blights truly started. One idealistic Warden is lured down to the deepest part of the Deep Roads, and _boom_ , Blight unleashed. If nothing else, there was the chance that the Architect could have wiped out half of the Wardens in Ferelden.

_Now you just sound like you’re trying to convince yourself._

It was all a moot point now anyway. The Architect lay dead underground, whatever plans he envisioned for the darkspawn and all Thedas were lost. Aedan would likely be long dead before the consequences of his actions truly came to light, if they ever did. He, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, it is his duty to protect the people from the darkspawn. Whatever the cost, as is often said, he scoffed lightly at the thought. He wasn’t even sure what that cost would have been, but he was sure it was too high a price for a slim chance of peace.

_Ok, better … but you’re still trying to persuade yourself aren’t you? Just stop these circular arguments, now!_

He chuckled wearily as he berated himself. Whatever the truth of it, he had to focus on the issues at hand now. The issues of the past would just have to stay there, until they decided to rear there ugly heads. When that day came, he hoped that he and his Warden’s, or whoever was around to deal with such things would cope. If they couldn’t, well … then his name would likely go down in infamy.

_Might make a pleasant change after all this praise: The Hero of Ferelden, Slayer of the Archdemon Urthemiel, Discoverer of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, etcetera, etcetera, well done, bravo, top show, where’s the cake?_

Finally deciding that he needed to get some sleep else his mind was going to descend into stranger territories. Aedan stretched lazily as he stood, he eyed the vile paperwork atop he desk with disdain. He swept his papers into one pile on the desk as he heard a strong rap on the door.

“Come in.” He called his visitor, who was already through the doorway as he looked up. The slight figure and short blonde hair of Velanna stood before him. Her tree branch staff clasped in one hand as the other made a slight fist. Aedan noticed her robes were tattered and frayed slightly at the hem. A small hole was burnt into the fabric over her stomach, hair rumpled with the odd twig in place. He barely had chance to register her dishevelled presence before almost jumping back at the fierce glare in those sharp green eyes.

_Well, this can’t be good._

“Commander,” the elven woman murmured, putting as much spite into the word as she would for her usual insult – _shemlen_. Aedan stood up straighter despite his fatigue, one hand on his chair, the other on his hip as he waited for the onslaught that every fibre of his body felt was coming. He noted her current condition; she must have just come back from patrol. Evidently whatever angered her couldn’t wait till after a long peaceful sleep.

“You lost … her, my sister.” The Dalish mage barely managed to grind it out through her inner rage. Aedan sighed and dipped his head as he thought for the right words. It was inevitable that this had to happen at some point. Now that his sleep deprived mind remembered everything he was mildly surprised he hadn’t been set alight by the Dalish mage earlier.

“Vela-” he started gently, yet she cut him off.

“My sister could be dead because of you!” Velanna drawled out menacingly, she advanced a step, pointing a finger accusingly at his chest. Her whole body was shaking slightly with rage. She wasn’t shouting, but she didn’t need to, the anger and pain that laced her voice spoke volumes. “You swore you would help her, that you would help me to get her back! But you didn’t, you forced us to abandon her!”

He raised his eyes to meet her gaze; her green eyes a cacophony of rage and hurt that made him wince involuntarily. Had he not suffered the glare of an Archdemon he would likely be clawing at the wall behind him in terror.

Instead, he looked her evenly in the eyes, she deserved that much. He hoped his sincerity would break through. “Velanna … I’m sorry,” she scoffed at that, unsurprisingly. What words could he have to make amends, “truly, if there was any chance of-”

The mage barked a harsh, bitter laugh. “We had a chance, but you killed the Architect! He could have released Seranni!” She yelled a little hoarsely, her frame shaking as she vented too little of her anger. “You’ve doomed her- _We’ve_ , doomed her … and for what?” The mark of the Dalish, her _vallaslin_ was distorted by her snarling face. The human warrior just stood there numbly, struggling for the right words to say.

“And now she’s probably dead,” Velanna continued, clenching her eyes tight in a vain attempt to stop tears escaping, “taken by the very beasts we were supposed to protect people from!” Her eyes though damp, burned into him with the accusations. Aedan met her gaze still, feeling for the elven woman in front of him. Seranni was the only family she’d had, now likely lost forever. “I never should have followed you.”

Aedan sighed again as he considered. He couldn’t deny her words; his decision had put Seranni out of her reach. He had attacked the Architect knowing the objections of some of his Wardens, Velanna included. Yet despite this, he knew he wasn’t to blame here. It was the Architect who had orchestrated this entire tragedy. It was the Architect who ‘held’ Seranni, and even there he had his doubts. Though she was kidnapped, tainted, Seranni had joined the Architect willingly; she had defended the beast in their last meeting.

Looking back into Velanna’s eyes though, Aedan understood her pain. He’d felt it himself. Whatever argument he might make now would just rile her up further. Her hate for humans would increase tenfold, if it had not already had. She’d recess back to the cruel pariah he’d found in the woods, murdering any human foolish enough to cross her path. Her anger threatening to destroy everything she had and who she was.

_Just how I felt after Howe …_

A memory of that night he’d fled Highever: venting all his grief and anger at Duncan. Castle Cousland alight in the black pitch of night behind him, so close he could smell the embers and catch the screams on the wind. Duncan had let him vent his fill, then picked him up and berated him for his folly, ordered him keep going. It worked on the soldier boy, his legs keeping pace with Duncan as his heart burned to ashes behind him.

Despite not knowing the grizzled warden for long before his untimely demise, Aedan had grown a respect for the man who had saved his life that nearly rivalled Alistair’s. In that short time, he had showed the young Cousland not to let his anger consume him. He never truly dissuaded Aedan from getting vengeance from Howe, only to learn to live again after the blood had been spilled.

He didn’t know if he could do the same for Velanna, but he owed it to her to try.

“Do you really believe that?” Aedan asked carefully, breaking the tense silence. Velanna’s fury had not abated an inch. The elf narrowed her eyes a little, incredulous that the human would respond so. “Do you truly think that the Architect would have just handed her over once his work was done?” He posed the question, silently praying a little to the Maker that he hadn’t misjudged this.

Uncertainty flashed across her face, but only for a moment. “Then we would have forced him!” She all but screamed, “You’re a _shem_ hero are you not? You could have done more!” Flashes of electricity sprang up her arms as her self-control wavered, her staff visibly shaking with untold energy. “You saved the city, but of course, that was full of humans! Why should you care about the lives of a few elves?”

Aedan responded with his own shout, though calmer than the growing Dalish rage before him, “I did what I what I thought was best!” He braced himself, “had there been a way to save your sister without unleashing another Blight I would have taken it. It was never about you being elven! You saw the Architect, heard him! Maker knows what his true plan really was.”

Velanna pounced immediately, voice fast and shrill, “you don’t know that he was lying to us, there was a chance-” a pause as she gathered herself, she swallowed thickly. “You could have at least humoured him, long enough to rescue Seranni!”

He roughly wiped his face with a hand, “By the Maker, I’m the Warden-Commander of Ferelden! It’s my duty to protect the people, all people! Had we agreed to his offer, he could have done anything to us when he had us in his lair! The risk was too high!” Aedan paused as graphic images shot across his mind’s eye, making him flinch involuntarily. The elf narrowed her eyes in confusion at the look of pain on his face. Though not sure if it would help, he decided that he needed to tell her why he made his decision. One added reason for that decision anyway.

He took a few moments to let the situation calm before continuing. Grotesque memories and dreams blended together in his mind. “You remember the Mother? And the Broodmothers of Kal’Hirol?”

Velanna’s nose scrunched slightly in disgust. “What do they have to do with this?”

Aedan scratched his forehead as he thought his reply through. “The Architect claimed to want peace between darkspawn and the people of Thedas, yes?” Velanna nodded briskly, evidently nonplussed. Aedan began pacing as he explained. “Well, think what would happen if that became reality. The darkspawn could eventually live … not with us, but certainly close to the dwarves in the Deep Roads.”

“What is your point human?” Aedan took it as a plus that she said ‘human’ rather than ‘ _shemlen_ ’. Velanna’s arms were now crossed impatiently over her chest.

“If that happened, then they would eventually spread further through the Blight. But to do that,” Aedan paused, “they would reproduce. They’d _need_ to, just to carry on as a species. You cannot have peace with a race that doesn’t exist! And for that they need Broodmothers.” Aedan finished, looking straight into confused green eyes. A moment or so passed before realisation dawned on the Dalish mage.

“They would use us,” She stated quietly, gazing down at the floor. “They would take us, and … _taint_ us.” She spat the last bit out with disgust. “No woman or girl in Thedas would be safe. No one would” Her expression was one of pain and grief. She didn’t speak for a while. “I understand,” she sighed raggedly, “You did what you thought was best.” There was no indication whether she agreed with the reasoning or not. Rather, whether she thought it was an acceptable trade, her sister for the safety of all Thedas.

Velanna toyed with her staff absentmindedly. “Is that what happened do you think? To Seranni, did they-? Is she-?”

“No,” Aedan answered without thinking, though he was certain. “I don’t think so … if that was what the Architect wanted her for … then it would have already done so before we last saw her. It doesn’t make any sense for him to wait.” Velanna looked up at him, eyes moist with unshed tears. She nodded once slightly and her mouth crept up at the corner in what may have been an attempt at a thankful smile.

They both knew it was a platitude and nothing more. They had no way of knowing either way unless they ever found Seranni again. Somehow human and elf both doubted that.

Velanna just stood there for a moment, leaning against her staff slightly. Her gaze was fixed at nothing in particular. Aedan couldn’t guess at the thoughts that were rushing through the elf’s mind right then, or exactly how she was feeling. He was still half expecting to be struck by lightning.

Without a word or acknowledgement, Velanna suddenly turned and made to leave the study. The warrior stood from his desk and quickly put his hand on the door before she could open it. “Wait,” he murmured softly. She didn’t protest or say anything. Maker she just looked so … _tired_. The elven mage looked as if she had lost all reason to keep fighting.

“I know what it’s like,” The Commander murmured so quietly it was a wonder she even heard, but she did, and she listened, “…I know what it’s like to lose the people close to you.” His words spilled from his mouth almost unwillingly, he wasn’t sure if this would help, but he’d do it all the same.

The elf interjected before he could continue. “You think yourself to be like me?” Velanna asked incredulously, some contempt written on her face. She hadn’t lost all the fight in her then. “You know nothing of me or how I feel, human.” The cloak of the night’s shadows did nothing to hide the small fire in her eyes. She made a vain attempt at opening the door. The stronger human stood his ground.

“I know what it’s like to have that kind of pain consume you.” Aedan stated over her growls. The mage paused and regarded him for a moment, her expression shifted again; she shook her head with a sigh.

“Plenty of people have suffered loss human,” Velanna started wearily, dropping the door handle, her eyes not meeting his, “that doesn’t make you or I unique,” Her quiet words were almost drowned out by the cold whistling of the wind outside, “or the same.” She added without venom.

“True,” Aedan stepped away from the door and went over to lean on his own desk, the wood creaking slightly, “All I know, is that pain like that can destroy you.” He was slightly surprised when Velanna was still there as he turned to face her.

“Save your words human,” the mage waved him off with disdain, “you care nothing for me or my kind. You’ve made that abundantly clear.” She finished quietly, an air of finality about her. There was something of an awkward pause, void of anger. She’d made up her mind; there was nothing else to say. There was nothing here for her anymore.

Just as she was turning for the door again, Aedan gave a short chuckle, which quickly became a laugh. Velanna slowly turned on the spot to regard the human with a piercing glare. The elf breathed heavily through her nose as she stayed her hand.

“Really?” the warrior regained his composure, a small smile on his lips, “is that what you really think of me?” When all he received was a quizzical eyebrow as answer, he continued. “Remember when we first met? You had been attacking those human caravans for weeks on end.”

“What is your point, human?” The elf turned on him again, evidently irritated by this unwelcome reminder. That told the human all he needed to know.

“I found that evidence, that your sister was kidnapped by the darkspawn, not by humans.” Aedan rubbed a sore spot on his lip before continuing, “I could have killed you then and there, and you’d have never have known the truth.”

“I would have liked to have seen you attempt such a feat, human.” Velanna answered coldly, Aedan smiled a little at that. After a moment, the mage returned the gesture. She idly rubbed both her eyes with a delicate hand. The anger seemed drained from her body now, replaced by exhaustion. Her whole body seemed to drop, the weight of grief pulling her down.

“So tell me, why did you decide to speak to me of the darkspawn?” She asked, honestly curious now, “You knew I had killed those men, If you had attacked me … many would have thanked you for it, many still would. So why didn’t you try to kill me?” She looked to him, gazing into his eyes as if to learn some truth from them.

Aedan’s answer was already on his lips before she even asked the question.

“As I said, I know what it’s like to have suffered loss.” He bowed his head slightly, eyes lightly glazed. “I understand wanting to strike out at the world.” He shuffled his stance a little as he relaxed into place, almost lost in thought.

Velanna murmured a noise; it might have been an answer or an insult. There was a pause for a second before she slowly moved forward, joining him to lean on the desk, side by side. Her staff resting across her shoulder, one arm hugged across her body. The chatter and laughter from the tavern drifted over them without impact. They were quiet together for a while, both lost in thought. After a while Velanna broke the silence, staring off at something only she could see.

“Do you think that I’ll ever see her again?” It was an honest, weak question. The kind a child might make when seeking reassurance, or when one had lost everything. Her quiet question hung in the air between them, exposing the void that had existed between them since that day down underneath the fields of Amaranthine. Aedan rubbed his face as he fought to find the right words. He’d never heard Velanna sound so … vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” He stated lamely, “I … don’t know.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Velanna smiled slightly and murmured as if that was just the answer she was expecting. She bowed her head in thought.

“If she is still out there,” Aedan began, more confident this time, “then I’ll help you find her, I promise.” Velanna looked back up at the human next to her, her Commander. His very ordinary blue eyes were set with resolve; she believed that he meant it. All of a sudden, it was much easier to see how this human could have fought the Blight and won.

Velanna nodded her head slightly; she almost chuckled to herself at his promise. She shouldn’t have expected any different. It was his duty, his role in life, that’s what it all came down to. The fabled Wardens, riding in to win the day and save everyone. That was what all the stories said. He was a Warden at heart and always would be. Whereas she’d joined them just to acquire enough power for her own aims. It was a miracle she had even survived this far.

The pair sat in further silence, nothing else to say or to hear. Another tear found its way onto her cheek. The grieving woman’s face cold yet composed. Inside, she was weeping.

She gazed at her hands before her; she could almost see the corruption that lay beneath them now. The taint she had willingly accepted in order to save Seranni, a quest she had now failed. She felt a wild impulse to tear at her skin, to keep ripping till all the taint was gone. She berated herself a fool, she had walked into this life. She barely listened when Aedan and Varel had warned her, as long as they took her closer to her sister, she accepted all the risks.

Now Seranni was gone, a faint glimmer of hope pulled at her heart, but she refused to listen to it. It was foolish to hope and dream, reality was pain and misery. All strength, all light was seeping from her now. A slow stream was turning into a waterfall. There was nothing left for her now; she had mutilated herself beyond recognition to get her sister back. Now there was nothing to keep fighting for.

_Is that what she would want?_

The thought shone through the elf’s mind, bursting through the pain and the grief. What was she thinking of, walking away? Even throwing her life away? She couldn’t let Seranni down like that. She had come too far to throw her life away now. Velanna had chosen this life, and she had survived all the trials so far. Her sister was missing. No, she was _dead_ ; the painful thought nearly forced another tear free. Killed by the darkspawn-

“And I am a Grey Warden now” the Dalish elf said suddenly, causing Aedan to look up in surprise. Her course was growing more certain with each moment. She wouldn’t bow down and let the darkspawn win. She owed Seranni more than that. She would kill every darkspawn; never allow another to be taken from their family. To do that she had to live, she had to fight, she had to be here.

Velanna wasn’t foolish; she wasn’t going to run off on a mission to wipe out as many darkspawn as possible before they overwhelmed her. No she needed to be here, with the other Wardens. Though they weren’t Dalish, they weren’t even elves, they would be her allies; they _were_ her allies.

“Then I mustn’t let Seranni’s sacrifice be in vain.” She muttered to herself, mind set on her goal. With that she stood from the desk and strode to the door. Heart still clenched in pain. Aedan straightened, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came. Everything he thought of seemed to be so inadequate now.

As she reached the door, Velanna turned back with a glance at her Commander. A characteristic scowl had returned to her face, though it failed to reach her sad eyes. She nodded once, curtly. Without a word, the Dalish Warden left the room. She was mildly surprised to find her feet walk off in the direction of her bedroom, and not the front gate and the wilderness beyond. A strong snore practically vibrated through one of the doors as she walked the hall. Evidently Oghren had returned as well.

Velanna sighed heavily as she entered her private room, closing the door and all sound swiftly behind her. The warm glow of fluttering candles did nothing to rouse her. Roughly wiping her face with her hand, she felt something poke into her skin. She pulled a twig from her hair and stared at it for moment. Silently laughing off a thought, she quickly cleaned herself of other foliage.

She was spent, all energy drained by tiredness and grief. The mage just wanted to sleep now, to drift into dreams and forget, even if just for a little while. She went to bed with a single thought in her mind, so quiet it didn’t quite leave her lips.

_I’m sorry Seranni._


	3. The Problems with Preconceptions

**The Problems with Preconceptions**

It was the arrogance that she hated most.

That smug sense of superiority that seemed to be infused in every human. That they felt themselves inherently better than her and her kind, leading to the cruelty and daily humiliations that she had come to expect from all _shems_.

Not content with laying waste to Arlathan and the Dales, the humans had driven home their ‘superiority’ in other ways. Forcing her people out of lands that were once theirs and theirs alone, making them live in exile or in squalor and filth. Making them live as servants and slaves, when once they were kings and masters.

Those days were all gone though, Velanna thought bitterly. The fetid smells of that disgrace wafted their way to her nose as she walked the path into one of the great human cities. Amaranthine wasn’t even the grandest of human cities so far as she knew, yet here it stood as a monument to humanity’s pride. Velanna’s nose crinkled in irksome disgust, at the smell and the disgrace of it all.

If only they were all Dalish, Velanna thought absently, then they could be masters of their own fates again. The Dalish rejected the disgrace of a human dictated life and forged their own path, out in the forests of the world. Still, Velanna knew her own people and their strengths and, as much as she hated to admit it, their failings too. She knew that most Dalish would outright reject any elf without the _vallaslin,_ such was the ‘crime’ of a city born elf.

It was a deep shame really, together the elves of Thedas could achieve so much more than few could even dream of. A small smirk crept up her lips whenever the thought of turning the tables against the _shem’s_ crossed Velanna’s mind. Yet that was likely to never be, her people were mostly content to wander the forests in scattered clans or forage some semblance of a life among the human cities.

Still, she could dream, and it was a good dream at that.

In fact, since physically abandoning her Dalish roots in the wilderness and getting to witness the injustices committed against her people first hand, she’d been imagining the dawning of a new elven age a lot more recently.

So imagine Velanna’s surprise when she was caught revelling in her fantasies by a _shem_. Naturally it was her commander of all people, Aedan _fenedhis_ Cousland.

It was stupid really, as it always was with that … _shem_. She’d been reading in the library, surrounded by numerous books on the history of elven-kind. Her interest had been piqued at the time by one tome detailing the conflicts between elves and humans. She took particular interest in the few battles that the elves had actually won throughout the ages. Sometimes she even recorded these stories in her own tongue, in a book gifted long ago bearing an elegant embossed tree on the cover. The uncomfortable irony of the book’s origin was not lost on her, though she quickly swatted away the feeling. Lost in her thoughts in the Keep’s library, she didn’t even notice the warrior enter.

Taking a quick look over her shoulder at her reading material, the noble had _ever so smartly_ commented: “Planning an uprising are we?” The inordinate amount of spluttering the mage made gave the game away.

As the blonde tried to formulate a suitable response she could read the humor in the human’s eyes, tinged with something a little more serious. Still, he hadn’t berated her or banished her from the Keep even, she wasn’t sure what the human punishment was for thinking of rebellion. If there even was one, rebellion seemed to be a human pastime, one that even the Warden Commander engaged in. Or so Oghren had once claimed and the dwarf was hardly a reliable source of information. So when Aedan had left the room after apologising for the interruption, Velanna wondered if maybe she’d just imagined the whole episode and that he hadn’t even noticed. It wouldn’t be the first time humans had literally ignored her kind.

Although, he had definitely seen her choice of reading material, and she’d have to be a complete fool not to realise how badly she’d tried to explain it away. Maybe he just found the whole thing amusing, the pathetic little elf girl who dreamt of the golden age of her people, fantasising about being just like the elven heroes of old. The thought made her scowl deeper than usual, teeth grinding, regardless of the fact that it was effectively true. Maybe that was what hurt the most.

She hadn’t gone back to that book since, berating herself for her stupid fantasies. No ancient hero or battle could help her people suffering now.

Despite herself though, every so often she couldn’t help her mind from drifting to some imagined glory days of elf kind. She wasn’t even sure if these thoughts were from a book or tale she’d heard long ago or just the manifestation of a foolish elf girl’s dreams. She sighed wearily when these dreams kept pestering her, almost tauntingly with a world that could never exist again.

It was a week after being caught-in-the-act as it were that she found herself returning to the library. Velanna froze like a halla under the gaze of a predator when she spotted three figures at the table in the centre of the room. Aedan, Nathaniel and Sigrun, squinting hard at the plethora of books laid out before them.

“ _Ire … abe- abeylas_?” Aedan stuttered out to the other two, his pronunciation of the elvish tongue atrocious thought Velanna.

“What’s that one supposed to mean?” Sigrun chuckled without looking up from her text book.

“I’m sorry … I think.” To which the dwarf laughed.

“So you should be, maybe you should just ask her, I can’t get my head round this elvish stuff.” Nathaniel scratched his head on the other side of the table, one leg lazily hung over a second chair.

“Oh I don’t know, it has a certain a charm to it.” Sigrun offered lightly, then, facing Nathaniel she scowled and cried in rather impressive elvish, “ _Ar tu na'lin emma mi_.” Both the human’s looked blankly at each other.

“And that means?” Nathaniel started.

“I will see your blood on my blade,” the dwarf supplied all too sunnily, “I could use some of these.” She returned her attentions to the book before her with interest.

“Try saying that to our resident Dalish,” Nathaniel shook his head with a small smile, “I’m sure that will go down well.”

“At least I could apologise immediately after, If I don’t get crushed with a rock or killed by a magic tree first” Aedan brandished his book against the archer with a smirk. “ _Er Abeylas_.”

Struggling to keep a most unwanted smile down, Velanna strode into the room. “It’s _Ir abelas_ actually.” She commented with no heat. The mage was amused to see the trio look up to notice her with surprise, human cheeks suddenly red with embarrassment.

“Hey Velanna! _Aneth ara_.” Sigrun waved cheerfully with a light smirk. The elf acknowledged the dwarf with a small smile.

“At least she’s competent enough not to butcher my language.” Velanna quipped with a smirk, crossing her arms at the humans and indicating the ever sunny dwarf with a quirk of her head.

“Ha! I told you!” Sigrun prodded her fingers at the human men with glee.

Though his cheeks were still rosy, Aedan managed to meet Velanna’s amused gaze. “ _Ir abelas_.” He offered, clearly putting effort into his naïve tongue. Still clunky and the dialect was distinctly amateurish, but a significant improvement, and Velanna found herself surprisingly touched by the effort.

“Not bad,” The mage admitted grudgingly, “for a _shem_.”

“ _Ma serannas_ , Velanna.” Aedan held her gaze with a small smile, bordering on a smirk. Now it was the elf’s turn to have her cheeks blossom. Without another word, she nodded with a half frown at no one in particular and turned to leave the room. As she left the library, she could have sworn she heard Sigrun chuckle out loud again. Dwarves were a strange people.

Though not as strange as these humans, bizarre creatures that they were. She had to admit that despite her views of the species, there were many who had gone against that and shown themselves to be different. Mostly it was just those in the Warden’s that were now her allies and comrades in arms. It was always little things Velanna noticed, like making an attempt to learn her language, greeting her in the morning with a smile or wave, or simply treating her like one of their own, inviting her to sit with them at meals. Sometimes, she wondered why she was treated with such respect among the Warden’s, in particular why she had never been brought to justice for her crimes.

Why was it that whenever her companions looked to her, they didn’t seem to see a murderer, they saw a comrade, an ally, a friend? Creator’s knows she’d certainly done little to prompt this sort of behaviour.

Even outside the narrow ranks of the Warden’s to others at the Keep, she’d mostly been treated with respect. Maybe it was just the blue and silver robes she wore, maybe a Grey Warden was always worthy of respect even if they were a ‘knife ear’. Yet she even noticed it with the few other elves who worked about the keep, like old groundskeeper Samuel, a lifelong city elf. When she’d quizzed him the first chance she’d got to talk to another elf since joining the Warden’s, she was amazed at how content he was. He was actually happy to work at the Keep and had even been close to Nathaniel when his father had owned the place.

It was jarring enough, to see such contradictions to her beliefs walking around with broad smiles, to make her think about her views on humans.

In spite of the poor lot of most of her kind suffered under human dominance, some elves could make a life worth living. The famous elven hero Garahel, victor of the fourth Blight stood as an icon for all elves, something to aspire to. Velanna herself had taken a similar route, joining the Grey Wardens. Though it was not, as she would readily admit, due a desire to be a hero or even to push forth an elven agenda.

Her original reason had long since passed now, and Velanna herself was not sure why she’d remained for so long. Yet here she stayed and, dare she say it, was happy to. Adorned in the sharp blue and grey robes that denoted her as a Warden, Velanna had probably done more for her kind than she’d ever achieved on her own or with her old clan. As the sole elven Warden in Ferelden, her presence was noted as something peculiar, to pay attention to. She’d seen it herself, from passing elven beggars who looked up at her in awe in the street, to soldiers and guards who saw in her a fellow fighter and defender of the peace, and she had even found some semblance of respect from nobles and kings.

Of course, that respect came with the adage of proving her mettle on the battlefield, yet even there she had found contentment. Maybe it was simply a lingering ghost from her violent past, she rarely more alive than when she was blasting darkspawn into oblivion. That they often did so to the aid of people was an added benefit. Even when they ventured to help humans in need, which was more often than not, Velanna had come to feel, well, glad for it. Whenever they helped a small family from ruin, or rescue a lone soul from disaster, Velanna was pleased about it all, regardless of their ears or height.

That was certainly not the Velanna of old, the one who had abandoned her own clan out of pride and spite, the one who had flown into a wild frenzy and murdered many an innocent human.

Velanna could be honest with herself, she wasn’t a particularly ‘good’ person. She’d killed too many innocents for crimes uncommitted for that to ever be the case. She’d felt some regret afterwards for those murders, but it was all too little and much too late. Feeling ‘good’ for helping humans in need now was never going to wipe the slate clean or the blood from her hands. But it was something at least, it felt right. Maybe that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t always perfect mind, being an elven Warden. The robes she wore earned her more than a few disapproving glances and the odd comment from humans, dwarves and elves alike, whether from simple disbelief or blind prejudice. There were many who couldn’t believe an elf could ever earn the honour of joining the Wardens.

That was much the case today, here in Amaranthine’s market, she thought with a sigh. All she’d wanted was to buy some Nevarran mint, but the stall owner had decided instead that he would loudly berate her for the ‘audacity’ to be a knife-ear in the Grey Wardens. The gathered shoppers around her did a poor job of pretending to not notice rather than being intensely interested in the scene.

Years past Velanna would have simply set the man ablaze and anyone else who looked like they agreed with his impromptu sermon. Now she merely rubbed at her eyes in irritation and waited for the foolish man to pause in his remonstrations.

She mentally blocked out the inane noise whilst imagining all the delightful ways she could show this pathetic scum his place. Maybe she would use a bit of arcane theatrics, not to actually set him alight or do any physical harm of course, just enough to terrify the merchant into a state of shock or permanent mental trauma. Her lips curled slightly at the thought. The old Velanna wasn’t completely gone.

Before she could enact any of her well thought out plans however, a small dwarven lady suddenly materialised to her left, leaning over the stall on one arm and pointing accusingly at the merchant with the other.

“Hey! Who do you think you are?! Do you know who this ‘ _knife-ear_ ’ is?” Sigrun mocked the merchant’s heavy voice, the human merely spluttered in outrage. “Without her, this city would be dust! And everyone here would be dead, including you, you little nug-humping prick!” The dwarf shouted, much to the amusement of Velanna and much of the surrounding crowd apparently.

“So if in future you want to go attacking any elves or dwarves or whoever else you think is beneath you, maybe us Warden’s won’t be bothering to save your fat arse the next time a darkspawn horde comes traipsing through the city!”

The merchant had turned beech red, but held his tongue. The market was deathly quiet now, were moments before it had been a sea of chatter. Sigrun took the man’s silence with a nod, then grabbed some coin from her own pocket, slammed it on the table and snagged the mint from a basket, thrusting it at the mage.

“Good day!” She barked at the merchant and with that she turned on her heel and marched off. With nary a glance at the merchant Velanna made to follow the dwarf, amused smirk so firmly set in place she thought it would never come down.

“Well,” the blonde started, “That was … impressive.” The elf was slightly disturbed at how quickly the dwarf’s snarl had switched to her usual sunny smile.

“Eh, it needed to be said. I know you can handle yourself, but I haven’t had the chance to vent lately.” Sigrun emphasised her point by stretching her neck to the side until it cracked loudly, making Velanna cringe.

“So I see,” the elf commented dryly, she glanced at the mint in her hand. “I’m surprised you paid him after all that.”

“Well, although he doesn’t deserve it, I just thought I’d have felt bad after taking all of these.” The dwarf pulled out a series of herbs and spices seemingly from nowhere. Velanna was now distinctly impressed. “Ginger?” the dwarf offered the elf with a wink.

“No, thank you.” Velanna declined with a small genuine smile. Sigrun shrugged and popped a cube of crystalline ginger in her mouth. “But, thank you, you know.” The mage offered back with a half cough and an insufferable blush rising on her cheeks.

Sigrun merely chuckled and put her arm around the elf’s waist, pulling her in for a small, one armed hug that nearly crushed the air out of the lithe elf.

“Hey ladies, you two ready to go?” The call from ahead drew elf and dwarf’s attention. Aedan and Nathaniel stood just outside the city gates, silver armour gleaming.

“Sure thing,” Sigrun called back, “Want some ginger? Velanna’s treat.” The elf narrowed her eyes at the dwarf but didn’t correct her.

The two human’s took the ginger with thanks and a smile. The commander turned to Velanna and nodded his appreciation.

“ _Ma senarras_.” He offered with a smile.

“It’s _ma serannas_.” Velanna corrected gently with a humoured smirk and a sigh.

“Oh, is it? Damn.” Aedan’s brow furrowed, cheeks lightly coloured with embarrassment. Sigrun and Nathaniel chuckled. “Alright you two, enough laughing at your commander, let’s get going.” With that he turned and strode out of the city.

“It’s alright commander, it’s not like you’ve been learning for weeks now.” Nathaniel joked as he strode to catch up with the warrior. Aedan kicked some dirt up at the archer in reply.

As Sigrun jogged on ahead with a chuckle to join the two human’s, Velanna’s mind drifted off again.

The world could be cruel to elves, she still saw it every day. Every time she sees a family forced to beg because of the shape of their ears. Every time she walks through an alienage. Every time she goes to trade with a bigoted human who can’t believe she has somehow tricked her way into the wardens, as if it was part of some elaborate _knife-ear_ plan. Everywhere there were reminders that she and her kind were inferior, second-class, unwanted.

Despite it all though, there were a few who would stand up, speak out for those who couldn’t do it themselves. Who saw the injustices of the world as they truly were and wanted to change them, even if in a very small way.

Velanna thought that maybe that would be enough as Sigrun dropped back to regale her with another anecdote. The elf rolled her eyes characteristically as the dwarf began her tale. But she suppressed the amused smirk that tried to rise to her lips. The relentlessly joyful dwarf saw everyone as a friend, or a corpse if you crossed her. In her limited experience, Velanna had found dwarves to be insular, uncaring for anything but their beloved ancestors and their strict castes. Anything that threatened the status quo was cast out. Yet Velanna was surprised by Sigrun, leaping in to defend the elf from a bigoted merchant stood testament to that.

The same could be said of the ever dour Nathaniel, who at a glance appeared as typically noble and _human_ as the elf expected of the taller race. Despite once swearing to murder the Hero of Ferelden in vengeance, here he was, walking alongside him, brothers in arms. He had even treated Velanna with respect that both surprised and irritated her.

And then there was Aedan, the Hero of Ferelden, the _shem_ hero, the living legend. Somehow he continued to live up to the spirit of the name even after all the fame and glory he had been showered in. Maybe making a concerted effort to learn her language was really all for some other benefit. A ploy to make some sort of political statement or for some other nefarious plan, but she doubted that.

None of this was as she expected it to be. Since becoming a Warden she had seen some of the worst the world had to throw at her, to drive her to her knees and force her to submit. The monsters that lay under the earth, coiled and ready to strike at the innocent and unwary. Even the everyday evils, the bigotry and hatred towards those who couldn’t defend themselves, and those who wouldn’t speak out against it all.

But she had also seen the kindness to strangers. The helping hands when they were needed most. The unity that drew people together when the worst was at their door. The people who stood in between the helpless and certain death, even if the odds were long and the rewards were petty. A few seemingly small acts of kindness had managed to challenge all of her preconceptions in no time at all.

And it was that most of all, that humbled her.

She thought to Aedan’s and Nathaniel’s attempts to learn the elven tongue, not the easiest language, and clearly the human’s had little talent for linguistics, unlike Sigrun. Maybe she would help them, in fact she resolved to do it. Not without some form of strict punishment for butchering her language of course, she didn’t want to make it easy on them after all.

Velanna turned to Sigrun beside her, the dwarf still chattering away amicably as the party ventured out into the forests around Amaranthine. Drawing some of the green leaves from her pack, she them out to the dwarf. “Mint?” She offered.

“Oh, thanks!” Sigrun’s smile shone ever bright, honestly Velanna wondered if the dwarf was even capable of frowning at all. The rogue carried on in her ramblings and Velanna shook her head good naturedly.

This wasn’t the life she envisioned all those years ago, a young girl entranced by magic and history in the depths of the forest. If someone back then had suggested anything like this would happen to her she probably would have encased them in ice and kicked them into a river. Becoming a Grey Warden, living practically comfortably among humans and dwarves? Madness, surely.

Yet here she was, and here she was happy.


End file.
